Ten things I find wonderful about Maladjusted - obviously your mileage varies w/regard to this album and the interpretation of its specific aspects, so I emphasize that this is personal opinion:
1. The general feeling of slippage; to me, this is what unifies the album and keeps it from becoming incoherent. Everything on it is slightly askew; silly lyrics ("Roy's Keen") are stuck to the most pathos-ridden melodies and vice versa; songs end, sometimes twice ("Trouble Loves Me") and then start up again, and melodies/lyrics tend to "slip off" the backing tracks (most noticably on "Ammunition" and "Satan Rejected My Soul"), with Morrissey's vocal coming in and wandering out at odd times. These are all tricks he uses elsewhere, but nowhere else are they this prominent; the whole album, echoing its title, feels deliberately skewed and liminal.
2. "Maladjusted," featuring the greatest placename pun ever: "Stevenage overspill," which is just what the song sounds like: a spilling-out, a weird regurgitation of S. Morrissey's mental flotsam. It's quite unique, and works equally well whether you want to read its references as literally autobiographical (stalking the house in a low-cut blouse...) or as fiction or bits of a movie.
3. "On this glorious occasion of the splendid defeat:" this album came out at Morrissey's commercial and public and (probably) personal nadir (post-failure of Southpaw, post-disastrous Bowie tour, post-Lawsuit...). It has a self-awareness to it, I think as a result, which is virtually unreplicated elsewhere in his work; of course he's self-aware elsewhere, but only on Maladjusted is there no sense of remove.
4. "Trouble loves me/seeks and finds me/to charlatanize me/which is only as it should be."
5. Maladjusted's incoherent vocables are particularly memorable, even in an incoherent vocable canon that includes "Bigmouth Strikes Again."
6. "Ambitious Outsiders," which I (somewhat dubiously, but instinctively) think is about homophobia, not murder. The gay narrator is responding to arguments that his orientation is a threat to the social order, a threat to the children; he's so sick and tired of the discussion, however, that all that comes out is weary sarcasm: "Yes, the more freedom you give us, the more we'll want...one moment decriminalization, the next we'll be out in the streets in our Dorothy wigs, every hour of every day! And yes, naturally, we're trying to convert your young. Think of all the unwanted pregnancies averted!"
7. The use of awkward ("We knows...") and excessive rhymes ("with a head full of dread/for all I've ever said...") is particularly prevalent on this album; I don't know if it's deliberate, but it always seems to show up in a particularly funny or effective place.
8. "Wide to Receive," pretty much the definitive song about the false closeness and profound alienation that the Internet can induce - and written in 1997, no less. (Well, that and a sexual subtext a little less apparent than "you can pin and mount me like a butterfly," but still, imo, present - which makes me think it's really about the idea of finding partners online, or cybersex. If this is the case, then I hope it's not autobiographical - for the sake of the partner; I can't help but picture Morrissey interrupting the cyberproceedings at the crucial moment with a deliberately disgusting comment, or to quote Joe Orton.)
9. "Roy's Keen." If you know Stephen Sondheim's musical "Sunday In The Park With George," than you know the meaning of pain...and also a song called "Everybody Loves Louis," in which Sondheim, very transparently, bemoans the success of popular "artists" who are, to his mind, no more than craftsmen...who happen to be charming enough to romance the public.
The song is insufferable. So is "Roy's Keen," and I think the subtext is the same. The difference is, Morrissey is talented enough to get away with it.
(Oh, sure, I know that there are tons of Morrissey songs which are solely intended as silliness; maybe this is one of them. But I keep seeing it, nonetheless, and the song seems awfully fully developed for something that's just a joke. Whatever, right?)
10. There is no number 10. Much though I like Maladjusted, I still have to admit that it's narrow in scope, lacks something I can only describe as "drive,"
And
includes
"Sorrow
Will
Come
In
The
End,"
which must have sent chills down a lot of spines in 1997.
"Is he really going to go on about this for the next decade?"
"Yessss....."
Now is it really Boy George's favorite? I love Boy George.
It's not my favorite, but it's in my solo top three. I agree that it's somehow an album that makes you smile at inappropriate times, in my case generally at work...